Memento Mori
by 4DX
Summary: His name is Diavel, and he is a knight. After a close encounter with death at the hands of Illfang, he began to believe that Fate, God, or whatever deity out there had saved him for a greater purpose: to lead the trapped players of SAO to the end of the game and back to the real world. Charismatic, diligent, shrewd, he has what it takes. A What-if Diavel lives story


Diavel marvelled at how easily the talwar slipped under his attempted parry and then cut deeper into his breastplate. The bronze metal cracked—the sheer strength to be able to do that was inhuman—and underneath that, his ribs as well. He staggered backwards many a step, tasting blood in his mouth, nearly falling to his back but stuck his sword into the floor behind just in time.

Illfang, the Kobold Lord, immediately pressed his attack, his blood-red snout snarling. Diavel raised his shield over his head. The talwar's first strike bit into it with such ferocity that it drove him to one knee. The second strike all but split the pine wood into two, and Diavel was greeted with the sight of the Kobold Lord's open, drooling maw.

The third strike rose and fell.

In the light reflected off the great blade, Diavel saw his life flashing and he thought, _Oh, it's a nodachi. Not a talwar. _Not the sanest of last thoughts.

The nodachi came straight for his head, his eyes crossing as they followed the path of the blade. He somehow had the time to take a breath—the breath you took when waiting to die—and also time to reflect upon what others were thinking about him. _Do they know I actually told them to stand down because I wanted the Last Attack Bonus? Will they remember me as the player who died because of his greed? Will they not even remember that I was the one who brought them this far?_

The blade edged closer, singing a death song.

_No! _ A feral voice screamed from some, dark recess of his mind he didn't even know existed.

He threw himself sideways, and the nodachi ripped into his shoulder pauldron rather than his skull. The pauldron crumpled up like it was a piece of paper and Diavel's shoulder exploded in a world of pain. He cried out, a wave of dizziness washing over him, tears coming to his eyes. But whatever remaining desperate will to live that caused him to dodge the initial deathblow then made him throw a blind cut with his sword. He felt it connect, but could not tell where, only hearing a beastly shriek. Then he was being pulled to his feet by someone, and his first reaction was to resist, but then realized that it was a helping hand and so let himself be dragged away.

"Take this!"

A vial of scarlet red liquid was shoved under his nose. Diavel looked up.

_Kirito. _The face was that of a boy, hardly a hair on his chin, but the eyes—grey eyes—which stared at him were that of a man, a person who knew what had to be done and how to do it. "Take this," Kirito said again, and Diavel obeyed. He gulped down the potion in about as much time as you might take to say a one-lined prayer. It tasted rancid—and he almost spat it out—but immediately he felt the pain in his shoulder and chest lessen.

"Thanks," he said.

He looked to Illfang. The Kobold Lord had jumped back a fair distance from the rest of the players, a nasty gash spilling blood across his potbelly. _I probably did that, _Diavel thought, then saw a lone player charging towards the ten-feet-tall beast, the sheen of her sabre blinding in its shine. Illfang roared, twirled the nodachi in one hand, then dashed forward to meet the player's challenge. She stepped under the swing, the edge kissing the top of her hood that it fell, revealing a beautiful head of chestnut braids with an even prettier face to match, and then, rising, she threw an upward slash that turned the gash on Illfang's belly into a cross-shape. Illfang reared back, pinwheeling his little arms in an effort to keep balance to his enormous body, then recovered to swing again at the girl. The cut nearly shortened her by a pretty head, but she avoided it with a roll. Attacks after attacks she dodged, but it soon became apparently that she was on the back of her feet.

"She needs help," Kirito said.

Before Diavel could respond, the young swordsman was already gone. He tried to make himself stand, but accidentally placed weight on his left arm, reawakening the pain which the potion had temporarily soothed. Blood leaked down out of the broken pauldron, dyeing the sleeve of his blue arming clothes red. He looked to the rest of the players, all standing there bewildered, some looking at him, some looking at the fight.

"What the hell are you guys doing? Stick to the plan! Surround! Surround!" he barked at them, not caring the fact that he was actually the first to deviate from the plan.

The players collectively gave an ashamed look, then jumped into action, running forward to encircle the First Floor Boss. The female player fighting Illfang made a weak parry and her sabre went flying out of her hands. "Switch!" Kirito shouted from behind her, and almost as if they had rehearsed a thousand times, he stepped forward to block a blow while she ducked and spun by his side and ended up behind him. She ran to retrieve her weapon, then returned in time to switch once again with the swordsman and score a looping cut on Illfang's sword hand. The two worked together like dance partners long attuned to each other's bodies, knowing each other's strengths and limits, stepping in perfect sync, forwards, backwards, sideways. He covered, she riposted.

"Diavel, are you alright?" a player dressed in similar blue arming clothes as Diavel appeared by his side. He had an angelic face framed with chin-length dirty-blond hair.

"I'll live, Lind," said Diavel. _I'll live. I'll live! _It didn't hit him until now just how close he was to Death's grasps. Fate, or whatever god looking out for him, must have decided he was needed for a grander purpose than to die here. He tested his shoulder and was rewarded with a jolt of pain, but it was manageable. He continued watching the fight, "Damn, who is that girl? I thought she was a beginner."

"No idea, I want to find out as well," Lind replied.

Almost as if on cue, Kirito shouted, "Asuna!" and said girl began a series of slashes aimed at Illfang's legs, not slowing down in the slightest, her sabre a blur to Diavel's eyes. Then she suddenly faded back, and at the exact same moment, Kirito dashed forward, leaping high above the Kobold Lord's guard—which had been low to guard against the girl's attacks—and brought down a two-handed strike on the beast's head. The blow struck the helmet with a loud _clang_, must have rang bells in Illfang's head, and the Kobold Lord stumbled back into a spear wall of players.

"They're beautiful to watch," said Lind.

Diavel nodded. "I can watch them all day long," he agreed, then said, "Help me up, will you Lind? It's time to finish this."

The blond player turned to him. "But you're injured?" The expression of concern on the twenty-year old was genuine.

"I'll be fine. Can't have the leader sitting on his arse while those two get all the glory, eh?" he said with a smile, watching as the raid party began peppering the boss with arrows. Illfang batted off most with the flat of the nodachi, but it was a long blade, not a _wide _one. The arrows pierced his flesh, sending him into a frenzy of agony, his fury roaring, his blade swinging wildly, and Diavel knew right then that it was already over. "It can't be more than a few more minutes of this. Let's end this how we started."

Lind grinned. "I see," he said, then helped Diavel up to his feet. "Fuck, I can't believe it, we're actually about to pull this off."

"Yeah, we are." _And I'm going to be there when we do._

Diavel tossed aside his broken pauldron like the scrap metal it was now, and began making his way towards the fight, Lind following closely behind. _Victory, _he thought, _I can already feel it._ He let a grin creep across his face as he picked up his pace into a jog. They had done it. After two months stuck in this cursed game, watching countless and countless of people die, grovelling in the growing fear every day that they might never escape this world, they had done it. In the distance, Illfang shrunk back from the encirclement of players, his ferociousness suddenly not so daunting anymore. The player furthest at the back of the encirclement saw him approaching and cried out, "Diavel-san's back!" A loud cheer rose among the raid group then—so loud he thought he saw the Kobold Lord flinch—and Diavel made himself sprint, pumping his sword high in the air.

"The knight lives!"

"Make way! Make way!"

"Everyone on Diavel!" shouted Lind from behind. "On Diavel!"

In the space of a few minutes, the situation had gone from despair to hope to now jubilance, and in their roars and shouts, he felt something awaken within him, as if right here on this battlefield, leading the players, was where he belonged all along. There was only one more word to be said.

With his sword point aimed at Illfang, he bellowed, "Charge!"

They charged.

To everyone trapped in this virtual world, their victory today would prove that this game _can _be beaten. The prison which Kayaba had crafted for them was a glass ceiling waiting to be broken. All that was needed was some patience, a whole lot of resilience, and someone with the balls to lead them.

And Diavel laughed as he thought how it was him who made all this possible. Despite what Kirito and that girl Asuna have done, he knew that this victory belonged to him.

Ω Ω Ω

"Speech!" someone cried out.

"Where's that bloody knight?"

Diavel felt himself being tugged and he tried desperately not to spill his drink. He gave his best modest smile. "Maybe later," he said, "when you all are too drunk to remember what I said."

They laughed. It was impossible to get truly drunk in game; nevertheless, the game tried simulating intoxication the best they could by making your limbs go as full retard as possible, cueing in countless of moments of totally sober people flopping around as if different parts of their bodies were inhabited by separate entities. It got so ridiculous to the point that players just started pretending that they were actually drunk.

Lind filled his cup to the brim with a pitcher. "You make the first toast then." The man smirked. Others roared their agreement.

Diavel opened his mouth to protest, but then returned the smirk. "I'll get you back later," he whispered, then raised his voice for the crowd of players around him, "Alright, a speech it is!"

The resounding roars were deafening, and he let himself be pulled towards the centre of the tavern, where a lone chair had been set. He climbed onto the chair, so that he now stood one head taller than Agil—the tallest player in the room—and cleared his throat. It took a minute for the merry noise to died down, and he felt rather than saw every pair of eyes on him now.

The tavern they were in was a rather large one, having plenty of space for the forty-four players who took part in the First Floor Boss Raid, plus the barkeeper and his serving wenches and also a few more players who got invited to the celebration party despite not taking part in the raid. Curtains were drawn against the windows, keeping prying eyes away from the exclusive gathering. The food—bought lavishly with the loot money from Illfang's lair—consisted of roasted wild venison, well peppered, served with onions, mushrooms, and mash; lamb, roasted with a crust of herbs; and a half dozen ducks. Not to mention the ten barrels of wine for the players to wash it all down with.

"Friends," Diavel began, "two months ago I thought the world had ended. Like all of you, I came here to just play a game and simply have fun. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be just a world to chill with friends or by yourself, to escape the stress of work or school, a place to live out your fantasy, become a knight, a master archer, or, for some of you, a girl." That brought some chuckles and accusatory fingers at those who had initially created a female avatar. He continued, "SAO was the first game of its kind, and we all wanted to craft our own stories in this new world in ways we were limited in the old one.

"But that's the thing about life isn't it, we have no right to expect the world to go the way we suppose it should. It might be that some arsehole named Kayaba Akihiko decides to screw us over and keep us trapped unless we play the game his way. It might be that if we die in game, a high-density microwave deep-fries our brain like fried chicken. What can we do about it?" His eyes wandered down to his drink, watching how the dark red liquid slushed against the walls of his cup. Then he looked back up, meeting the eyes of as many people he could. "We take control, that's what. We do whatever is in our power to dig in, live on, and _fight_. To clear this damn game and go home. All of us here in this room is living proof that it _can _be done! After two months, we have finally done it. The First Floor has been cleared!"

The whole room seemed to erupt in cheers, pounding tables with their fists and tankards, spilling the food off their plates everywhere, and Diavel pointed to one ginger player with a shaggy beard. "Godfree, you drew the first blood on Illfang. We drink to you!" He took a gulp from his cup, and the others followed suit. He pointed to a tall, brown-haired woman. "Griselda, you held off the Kobold Lord for a good two minutes when we had that hiccup with the group switches. We drink to you!" Another gulp. "Kibaou, that cactus head of yours alone drew Illfang's aggro for half the boss fight. We drink to you!" Players thumped their tables laughing. Even the bad-tempered player smiled at that and drank. Diavel paused, dragging the moment as long as possible. "But I think out of all the great feats we have accomplished today; it is the fact that our casualty count is exactly at zero that brings me the most pride. And it's because of all of you watching each other backs. To all of you, I drink!" He finished his drink and tipped the cup upside down to show that not a single drop remained.

The crowd did the same, showing Diavel their capsized tankards, then roared their approval and glee. The barkeeper immediately went to work filling tankards anew on top the oak counter and wenches pushed through the thick bodies of players to hand out the next round. Diavel couldn't hardly keep his excitement from overtaking him, but he managed long enough to raise his hand for silence once more. Like an emperor's command, silence fell. _I could get used to this._

"Of course, I have not forgotten the heroes of the eleventh hour," he said, scanning the room before finding the two persons he wanted sitting in the farthest corner. "Kirito and Asuna!" Heads turned almost as one, and the dark-haired boy and chestnut-haired girl flushed in embarrassment. Diavel laughed. _Right here, you wouldn't think that these two were the fiercest fighters of the entire raid group, _he thought._ They're a whole different beast out on the field. _"You two very well may have stopped me from adding to that zero-casualty stat I was bragging about earlier. So once again, thank you. I literally owe you two my life. Not to mention the performance you two put on was nothing short of perfection. I don't believe any of us has seen anything like that. So, friends, what do we say to them?"

The entire tavern raised their cups and tankards. "We drink to you!"

Diavel smacked his lips after downing his drink, letting out a great exhale of satisfaction. "This is good wine," he said to a chorus of laughter.

"To Diavel! Knight of Aincrad!" someone near him shouted. He turned and saw that it was Lind. The twenty-year-old raised his glass and others followed suit.

"No no, not to me," Diavel said, though he could not stop the grin from his face.

But they ignored him and drank anyway, and seeing that there was no stopping them, he could not help but laugh. "I need another drink," he said.

Immediately, a selection of tankards was shoved under his face, with their owners crying out for him to take theirs. He lowered himself so that he was levelled with one bright-eyed woman, with a cherubic face and pretty locks of brown curls. _Alicia, _he remembered her name, _one of the best archers I saw today. _He took her cup and gave her a smile. "Usually I'm the one buying the lady a drink, but I think I like to be on the receiving end tonight," he said.

Alicia blushed, while the men around her howled in laughter. However, the blush disappeared as soon as it came and she snatched the tankard of the man next to her so fast he couldn't register before she yelled, "To victory!"

"To victory!" everyone roared.

"To victory, indeed!" Diavel drank her cup smoothly and handed it back to her, then straightened himself up. "But, let's not forget that we still have a long road ahead of us; we're but only on the first step of a thousand miles journey. It'll take time, hardship, and I won't lie to you that all of us will definitely make it to the end, but rest assured that…It. Will. Be. Done.

"For tonight, however, Clearers of Aincrad—oh I see you guys like that name. That's what we'll call ourselves then. For tonight, Clearers of Aincrad," he said to grinning faces all around him, "we have ourselves a party!"

They cheered and stomped as he stepped off the chair. He basked in it all like a woman sunbathing, soaking every bit of applause that came his way. He shook hands, grasped shoulders, hugged, complimented, flirted, and joked as he made his way towards the bar. Offers of further toasts came and he could not with good conscience refuse to drink. By the time he found himself a tall stool to sit upon, he was already beginning to feel the first sign of rebellion from his legs.

He stopped Lind as he passed by. "Make sure that whatever goes into my cup is water from now on," he whispered.

Lind gave him a look and Diavel noticed for the first time that there was a girl with the blond player. "Oh never mind, I'll do it myself," Diavel said, suddenly embarrassed. "Go on, big man."

"Didn't take you for a lightweight, Sir Knight," said the girl with a playful smirk. She had purple hair, sharp features on her face and was dressed in light green arming clothes.

"Diavel has the alcohol tolerance of a five-year old," said Lind. "Hell, even a total tee-toller can drink more than him."

"No, it's just that I rather keep control of my legs and not have them walk me off the edge of Aincrad," Diavel said. He meant it as a joke, but he had heard stories of it actually occurring. "But really, I have some business to attend that requires me not to look like a fool."

"Oh, come on, you're gonna do business tonight?" questioned the girl.

"Yes, yes, the knight never rests," said Lind. "Come on, Konata, let's go where the interesting people are." As they turned to leave, Diavel mouthed a thank you to Lind, for the man had just saved him from explaining himself.

He rested a couple of minutes and then walked up to an older man wearing glasses who stood by the doorway to the tavern kitchen. The older man nursed his cup like an experienced wine taster, taking measured sips at intervals.

"So you decided to come after all, Thinker," said Diavel. He shook the man's hand with two of his own.

"Yes, tonight's celebration is not one to miss. Thanks for the invite. Though, I don't think I deserve to be here," Thinker said. "I didn't take part in the raid."

"Nonsense. Ask anyone here and they'll know what a fine job you've done organizing things back in the City of Beginnings. If it weren't for you, thousands would still be running around senseless now. Here's a toast to you." Diavel clinked his cup—filled with water—with Thinker's and drank.

"Thanks, Diavel-san, I appreciate it. That was an exceptional speech you gave earlier, by the way."

"Hah, after a victory like today's, anything sounds good to your ears," Diavel said, then his expression hardened—just slightly. "There's a matter I wish to discuss with you actually."

"Ah, I suspected so." Thinker adjusted his glasses with a finger.

"I need your help in umm...recruiting players to join the frontlines," said Diavel.

"Do you mean you want to train players to become 'Clearers'?" asked Thinker.

The knight nodded. "We have ninety-nine more floors to clear and only forty-six clearers right now. Surely, you see the need to add to our numbers."

"I do. But you can't force players to go out of the Safe Zones. If they weren't afraid of dying, they would have left the Starting City already."

Diavel shook his head. "No, I'm not asking you to force them, but only to encourage them. Yes, fear is what keeping most back, but trust me when I say that the scariest part of clearing is the decision to fight itself; after a couple days of experience, you'll develop the good sense on how to stay safe. But right now, is the perfect opportunity to act. You saw what it was like when the announcement that we cleared the First floor was made. Players are starting to believe because _we _have proven clearing the game can be done. We must now use this to get players over that initial hump and out onto the field. Strike while the iron is hot."

Thinker pondered for several moments, and Diavel imagined that he was remembering the celebrations and sheer euphoric pandemonium that burst onto the streets when the announcement was made. Eventually, he responded, "You are right, Diavel. Strike while the iron is hot."

"You'll help me then? With your influence in the Starting City, we can definitely accomplish something."

"That we can." The older man raised a finger, however. "But there are the costs. How do you suppose we equip these new recruits? Practically everyone has sold their starting equipment and right now are making just enough through daily quests or rather chores to just pay for their rooms and meals."

A smile spread across Diavel's face. "I reckon that given the fresh pickings of loot we got at Illfang's expense, we clearers are in quite a rich position right now. I think quite a few of us can be convinced to be a be more charitable. It's for a good cause, after all. Also, I think that the prices of basic equipment are still quite depressed from all the mass selling you mentioned earlier."

Thinker nodded. "I see," he said. "Then, one more thing. The most important thing, actually."

"Go on."

"I'm still not completely at peace with the idea of sending out players if they feel they're not comfortable. If, however, they had someone to guide them, that would be much better. Preferably, I would ask you to do so."

"Yes, a guide, that's a good idea," Diavel said, rubbing his chin with a hand, "and I would be willing, but…" _I'm the leader and I need to be on the frontlines. I can't waste a week or so training newbs. _"But I'm not the best of trainers."

Thinker raised an eyebrow, obviously seeing the holes in his excuse.

"I'll find someone more suited, don't you worry," added Diavel quickly.

He scanned through the crowd of players. By the hearth, tables and chairs were cleared to create a makeshift dancefloor, where now a dozen men and women tangled in an awkward display of lacklustre dance skills, the effects of alcohol, and plain old indifference to what anyone thought. He picked out the spiky-haired head of Kibaou, who was just about rebuffed by every female he attempted to woo, and his frustration showed with his increasing brashness. _Too hot-headed, _Diavel thought and looked elsewhere. He saw Lind and the girl Konata with a table of their own; specifically, Konata was sitting on Lind's lap, dangling grapes over the blond player's open mouth while the latter had a hand resting by the former's rear. _Not Lind. I need him by my side. _

It was after shooting down three more candidates for various of reasons when a large figure appeared out of the kitchen doorway and stood in front of Diavel's vision, blocking his view of the rest of the room.

"Sorry," said Agil, "but I overheard the conversation. You're looking for someone to guide the newbs? I'm willing to do it."

The tall, black man was easily the most imposing person Diavel had ever seen, and he remembered seeing the giant battleaxe which the man wielded with such ease crack through Illfang's guard several times during the boss fight. _Not someone I would ever want to duel with, _the random thought came to mind, but then realization dawned within Diavel and he knew that he had his guide. "Oh, perfect. I was actually looking for you, Agil," he said as if he had thought of the idea long before. "You shut down Kibaou and his rant about the beta-testers with your revelation about the Beginner's Handbook. I'm guessing you're more than familiar with its contents?"

Agil nodded.

"Good, then you'll know as good as anyone else how to lead the newbs—I mean, new players. How long do you reckon you can get them to a high enough level for the frontlines?"

"A week? Maybe a week and a half. I'll have to see what I'll have to work with first," said the big player. "Regardless, when they get to the frontlines, I'll make sure they're more than ready to face any challenges set."

"Good, and better not to rush. Ideally though, I would want them to get to the frontlines as soon as possible so that we can start integrating them with the current clearers," said Diavel and turned to Thinker. "Will you accept Agil?"

The older man straightened his glasses, then narrowed his eyes as he looked over the black man from head to toe. He smiled. "I'll be perfectly satisfied if Agil-san here will guide the new recruits."

Diavel raised his cup. "Here, here, to our new partnership then. You give me new clearers, and I'll do my absolute best to see them safe to the end of this game."

"Looking forward to that day," said Thinker.

"And I," said Agil.

"I'll leave you two to hash out the details then."

With that done, Diavel made his way towards the far corner of the room, pushing through the stumbling bodies of players who had exceeded their drink limit (there was some hidden formula that determined each player's drink allowance before their limbs fail). Kirito and Asuna looked up as he approached, and he gave them a gracious smile.

"Mind if I join you two?" he asked.

Kirito nodded while Asuna returned the smile. As he pulled himself a chair, he noticed that their cups were still relatively full.

"You know, I don't think I can thank the two of you enough," he said.

"There's really no need, Diavel-san. We did what we had to," replied Asuna. The dirt and grime of the battle was gone from her face, allowing Diavel to fully appreciate the budding beauty in her hazel eyes and smooth complexion framed by chestnut hair. She was dressed in a clean white tunic, red skirt, dark leggings, and leather boots.

"Far from it. I made a serious error and nearly lost my life because of it." He drank, only remembering that it was water after. Disappointment momentarily flashed across himself. "So how long have you two been partied together?"

"We…" Kirito began, "actually met each other at the raid meeting."

Diavel's eyes widened. "Wait, you two weren't with each other before? How did you guys work so well together then?"

The young swordsman rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Well, after the meeting we hunted together for a bit, but we just sorted of figured most of it when we were fighting the Kobold Sentinels."

"Unbelievable," muttered Diavel. He looked to Asuna and the girl gave no signs of refuting Kirito's claims.

"I'm a quick learner," was all she added.

_A natural fit with each other, _Diavel thought, _incredible_. He looked over at Kirito. The swordsman wore the same black arming clothes which he had worn during the boss fight. The only addition to his attire was a long black coat with black leather trimmings—it was finely made, and clearly without any wear and tears.

"Is that the Last Attack Bonus?" Diavel asked, gesturing at the cloak.

Kirito looked down as if noticing for the first time he was wearing it, and as he moved the hilt of his sword poked out at his waist. _He looks like he's about to go out and grind some more after this._ "Yeah, it's called the Coat of Midnight," he said. "Boosts my Hiding ability. No idea why Illfang would drop something like this though."

"Looks good on you," Diavel said. _Wouldn't have been much use to me if I got it anyway._

Silence settled between them and Diavel used the moment to look round the room. There were no signs of the party dying down as players continued to drink, sing, and dance to their hearts' content. At one point, a chant of 'Fuck you, Kayaba' began to make its way round the tables, with many competing to see who could scream it the loudest. If the God of this world could hear them, he did not seem to be making any moves to punish them.

"What's your plan for this floor, Diavel-san?" Asuna suddenly asked.

Diavel drank to hide his pause. He made sure no one nearby to overhear, then said to Kirito, "We're up against the Taurus this floor, yeah?"

The swordsman coughed midway through his drink. "You're a beta-tester?"

"You didn't realize at all?" Kirito shook his head. Diavel sighed. "Well then, yes I was. Under a different account though. I think you and the Rat are about the only testers who recycled their beta accounts."

Kirito blushed at that. "Yes, it should be the Taurus."

"With some small changes I assume, like in the first floor." _Nodachi, not talwar. _"But most likely, the core questline will be the same. To answer your question though," Diavel said to Asuna, "I don't want to spend another two months just to clear one floor. We clearers need to be better organized, better led, have a focus on cooperation rather than competition. The groups we had during the boss fights seemed to work together well enough, so that's a good base we have already. As more players join the frontlines, we can intermix them with the veterans."

He leaned back on his chair. "Information is king. The more we know, the safer we can clear, and the faster we can go without all this trial and error. Preferably, I would like all the beta-testers to step forward and reveal what they know. But I understand the stigma. Not to mention, that probably most testers are already dead, and the Rat—with her one thread of morality—won't reveal who the surviving ones are. Oh, don't look so surprised, Asuna. Just because they had one more month of experience, doesn't make them much better than the average player."

"He's right," Kirito supported.

"I see," said Asuna.

"But anyway, like I said, we should try to stick with the groups we got now. Our margin of error is significantly higher in teams than not, so we can scout more daringly and efficiently. With that said though, I am going to make some small changes," Diavel paused as he met their eyes, "I'll ask you two to join my personal party."

The two of them stared back him, dumbfounded for a moment. Then Kirito asked, "Why?"

Diavel laughed. "Why? You two are clearly the best fighters we got right now. There's a long line waiting just to ask you guys to join their team. But," and his expression turned serious, "I will let you two know right now that I intend my group to be the one who sets the pace for the clearers. We will be at the forefront of the front. I will push us harder, faster, more gruelling and tiring than any other group. Because we will be the ace, and we _will_ lead everyone out of this game. I don't ask anyone who I think can't handle the pressure to join."

The two young players looked to each, a silent exchange going on between themselves, and then they looked back to Diavel and nodded.

"I thought so," he said, grinning. "Let's win."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Despite his relatively short screen time, I always saw Diavel as someone who could be much more complex as a character. He was the first true leader of the clearers. Also, somehow he managed to keep egos such as Lind and Kibaou in check for them to work together. The idea for this story came when I wondered how the clearers would have fared had he survive and continue to lead them. So I decided to write it with my own personal take on his character (if you understand the title you might guess the inspiration for his characterization).

Honestly, I actually had a ton of fun writing this first chapter (I think it literally took me just 3 days to write this), and I look forward to be writing more. If I wasn't starting my Master's degree soon, I would honestly spend entire days writing this. Anyway, I do already have an idea for how this story will end, but we shall see about the journey.

Please do leave a review on what you think. See you all next time.


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